Shared Burdens
by kokoda2007
Summary: After a hunt ends badly, Dean shuts Sam out emotionally. Wrapped up in his own problems, Dean's not aware that Sam was injured during the hunt and now needs his help. Hurt limp Sam. Protective Dean
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters … **

**Shared Burdens**

**Chapter 1**

God, his brother was a jackass; Sam fumed silently, staring out of the Impala's side window. A regular beat thumped out of the front speakers, and Sam contemplated slamming his fist through the cassette player. Dean had crappy taste in music, and he really wasn't in the mood for it right now.

Sparing his brother a sideways glance, he contemplated instead landing a fist straight at his brother's face. Maybe if Dean wasn't driving…he deliberated, quickly discarding the wayward thought.

Taking a deep breath, he willed his tired body to relax, as best he could in the cramped interior of the car. It was nearly 5 o'clock in the afternoon, and they'd been on the road all day. Dean was eagerly herding them across state, heading for their next gig. Except for a very short stop to grab a sandwich for lunch, take a leak, and gas the car, Dean hadn't allowed them to take a break in the journey. This frantic rush from job to job had been going on for a few weeks now, and Sam had had enough.

Dean seemed so focused on keeping them busy, on fighting all the evil in the world, that he'd blocked all other sane reason from his mind. They needed a rest. Just a few days to restock their supplies and take a breather. A few days to overcome the exhaustion and allow their bodies to heal. Sam was bone weary.

He's tried raising the topic with his brother. Suggested they stay in the last motel for a couple more nights before moving on. Dean had looked at him with stark disapproval, reminding him so profoundly at that moment of their father. He was just being selfish, Dean said, packing their belongings. There were people out there who needed their help, he said. It's what Dad would have wanted, he told Sam, dutifully reminding him of their family responsibility.

Sam knew that Dean needed to keep busy to stop himself from dwelling on a recent unsuccessful hunt. Yeah, they'd killed the spirit with little difficulty, but hadn't been unable to save the child. The girl's image had haunted Dean since, and he was obviously trying to fill his every waking moment with activity to block his supposed failure from his mind.

Sam had tried talking to Dean after that hunt. Dean had accused him of being all "chick-flick" and had brushed his concerns aside. Sam told him that it wasn't their fault, that they'd done everything they could, and that sometimes they just couldn't save everyone, but Dean didn't listen, even though Sam felt that he was repeating Dean's own words that he's used on Sam many times before, back at him. When their roles were reversed, it seemed that Dean was no more likely to listen to Sam than Sam was to listen to Dean.

At first, Sam had been happy to jump straight to the next hunt, hoping that with something new to focus on, Dean would forget about their failure, but that had been a couple of weeks ago now, and his stamina was fast coming to an end. Sam was exhausted. Their last hunt had been physically challenging, both having more than a few bruises to show for it. Dean had gotten off comparatively light compared to Sam, but then, Sam hadn't told Dean exactly how many injuries he'd sustained.

He shifted again, trying to find a comfortable position while hiding his grimace of pain. His body ached in so many places, and the throb in his head was escalated to full blown pounding. He hoped that they'd be stopping soon; the thought of a hot shower or long soak in the tub a yearning he didn't want to suppress.

Bunkering down and resting his head on the back of the seat, Sam resigned himself to the fact that they wouldn't be stopping until Dean decided to.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam was woken from a restless doze when the Impala came to a stop outside a modest motel and the driver's side door slammed shut. Wincing, Sam noted with gratefulness the flashing vacancy sign and Dean striding into the front office. Glancing at his watch, he noted with surprise that he'd dozed for nearly an hour and it was already going on for nearly 6pm. Not a particularly late time to stop, but when you'd been on the road for nearly 12 hours, it felt like an eternity.

No longer under Dean's watch, Sam took a moment to properly move his body, not having to worry about having to hide the pain that every small shift in position caused. With all the time in the car today, he hadn't had the opportunity to take anything to dull the pain. Dean was too observant for him to have fished anything out of the first aid kit, and they hadn't stopped for long enough for him to slip away and purchase some more pills.

Seeing Dean striding purposely back to the car, room key dangling from his fingers, Sam quickly composed himself, masking all signs of pain.

"Room 112." Dean said, showing Sam the room key, before moving to unlock the trunk.

Sam slowly got out of the car, joining Dean at the trunk to retrieve his bag.

Lifting his bag onto his shoulder, Sam had to bite his lip to hold back a moan of pain. His bag felt like it was filled with bricks, and carrying the weight caused his bruised chest and abdomen to throb in agony. Anxiously blinking back all signs of distress, he clenched his teeth as he followed Dean into the room.

Sam didn't care how crappy the motel room was. Wasn't interested in the décor. Didn't care if it there was cable. Hell, didn't even care if there was no internet access. It had a bed, and that was all that mattered.

Gratefully, Sam dropped his bag on the floor near the far bed, and eased his aching body down. Laying his head back on the pillow, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to move again that night. He really wanted a hot shower or bath, but the effort to get there suddenly seemed just too great. No, he was happy enough to just stay put, at least until Dean dragged him away.

"Hey Sam, get your arse up. I'm starving." Dean announced, as if it was the most important thing in the world.

"How about we just order in some pizza?" Sam suggested hopefully, really not keen to venture out so soon after they'd arrived.

"You're kidding right. I've been driving all day whilst you've been napping. Is it too much to ask that we go out for a couple of hours and grab a bite to eat and a couple of beers?" Dean asked derisively.

Sam swallowed. He was reluctant to incur any more of Dean's wrath, but was at a loss with how to deal with the situation. He had to acknowledge though, that there was no way he was in any fit condition to venture out tonight. He'd resolutely held himself together throughout the day, but the effort had taken its toll. He was too exhausted and in too much pain to keep up the pretence while having dinner and throwing back a few beers.

"I'm really tired Dean…" he started.

"Yeah, well grandma, I guess I'll just have to go by myself then." Dean tossed at him, no humour evident in his voice.

Sam watched as Dean pulled on his jacket and picked up the keys before making for the door. "Back in a couple of hours …don't wait up" Dean tossed over his shoulder on his way out the door.

Sam stared at the door after Dean departed. That went well, he thought, wishing that his brother would stop shutting him out. He wondered for a moment if he'd unknowingly done something more to piss Dean off, but discarded the thought when the contemplation just made his headache worse.

A short while later, Sam resignedly pushed himself from the bed; keen to take a hot shower and grab some pain meds before going to sleep.

Looking around the room, Sam was disappointed to note that they'd left the first aid kit in the car. Of course, as far as Dean knew, they had no need for it in the room at the moment. As Dean had taken the car, Sam knew he'd have to go for a walk to the nearest drug store if he wanted anything; that is if there was even a drug store open in the evening around the motel. Sam realized that he had no idea of the name of the town in which they were in, let alone what stores or facilities were around. He resigned himself to going without, unable to face the task of walking even a block in his weary state.

He was pleasantly surprised to find the bathroom reasonably spacious and clean. Leaning oven to fill the bath, he had to clutch his stomach when a sharp pain torn through his abdomen. Massaging the very tender area in an attempt to ease the pain, he grimaced in noticing the vivid bruises and welts that criss-crossed his abdomen and chest. He'd taken a spectacular fall down a flight of stairs and into a wall during their last job.

Eager to sink his body into the warm bath, Sam diligently stripped off his clothes, taking care not to aggravate any of his injuries. Moving to the toilet, Sam went to take a quick leak before getting into the bath. Mindlessly taking care of the mundane task, Sam felt a moment of panic when he noticed the tinge of blood in his urine.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam lay in the bath, appreciating the tension that eased from his aching muscles with the swirling warm water. Running his hands through the water and over his body, he pressed around his abdominal area, trying to identify if he had some underlying trauma. He wasn't quite ready yet to admit to himself, how much the blood in his urine had scared him. Pressing on the bruises caused him pain, and he sadly acknowledged that with the number of bruises he had, it hurt everywhere that he pressed.

The water eventually cooled and Sam reluctantly got out of the bath. He'd been in there nearly an hour and felt a lot better after the long soak. The throbbing ache in his head had eased and the warm water had relieved some of the stiffness from his overworked muscles.

Sam toweled himself dry, lightly patting over his bruises and scrapes. He quickly prepared himself for bed, acknowledging that he really couldn't be bothered with the effort of getting himself any dinner. Slipping gently under the covers, he belatedly accepted that maybe Dean was right; he was a grandma. It was only 7.30pm and he was tucked up in bed.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam was rudely awoken a couple of hours later by Dean's noisily return to the room. Dean made no effort to be quiet; slamming shut the door and tossing the keys towards the table with a loud clang. Then the lights flickered on, causing Sam to blink rapidly under the fluorescent glare.

"Dean" he mumbled.

"Hey Sammy. I'm back." Dean stated the obvious, unconcerned with having disturbed a sleeping Sam.

Sam wanted to roll over onto his stomach and bury his head under the pillow, but his bruises and tender abdomen wouldn't cooperate. Instead, he was forced to lay there, the harsh light piercing through his head. Sam watched as Dean rummaged through his clothes, pulling out some clean sweats before disappearing into the bathroom. He hadn't bothered to switch off the light before leaving the room.

Sam contemplated getting up to turn off the light, or just lying there, waiting for Dean to return. He hoped Dean wouldn't be long because he couldn't be bothered getting up. Instead, he pulled a pillow over is head and thought of different ways he could kill his brother.

Dean eventually finished showering and came back into the room. Sam was relieved when the lights were finally switched off. He'd actually been in a deep sleep when Dean had returned, and now he was wide awake, once again conscious of his aching body. All benefits of the warm bath had now passed, and Sam knew it would take him a lot longer to get to sleep this time round.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dean couldn't believe that Sam was asleep in bed when he'd returned to the motel room. What was wrong with the kid, he thought, it wasn't even 10pm yet. He was angry enough that Sam had brushed off coming out with him tonight, but to make matters worse, Sam obviously hadn't even bothered doing any more research for their next job. The laptop was still packed in Sam's leather satchel, and there were no books or notes spread out on the table.

Dean pulled back the covers on his bed and lay down before leaning across to the bedside table and grabbing the TV remote. Switching on the TV, he commenced flicking through the channels, looking for something interesting to watch. He didn't bother keeping the volume low.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam knew that Dean was pissed off at him; it's not like he had difficultly picking up the signals. Dean's non verbal communication was excellent. The constant bad mood was really wearing thin though, and Sam didn't know how much longer they could go on before one of them snapped. Every thing he did seemed to grate on Dean's nerves, and he wondered if maybe they needed a little time apart.

He tried to ignore the repetitive channel flicking; one of his pet hates. Dean knew it annoyed him, which he was sure was exactly why he was doing it now. He clenched his teeth, determined not to say anything; determined not to annoy Dean further.

Dean fell asleep about 20 minutes later, with the TV still on. The remote fell from his lax hand onto the floor beside the bed. The noise from the TV was quickly interposed with Dean's rhythmic snoring.

Sam considered throwing a pillow at Dean, but knew it wouldn't achieve his desired result. Dean would probably just wake up, turn up the TV volume, and go back to sleep.

Begrudgingly, Sam slowly got out of bed. He was fully awake now anyway, and didn't foresee getting back to sleep in the near future, if at all. Moving silently over to the TV, he switched it off at the main power switch. He went over to that table and carefully picked up the keys to the Impala and to the motel room. Considerately, his movements were quiet and he didn't wake Dean up.

Slipping out of the room without a sound, Sam made his way over to the Impala, parked a short distance away in the car park. Opening the trunk, he promptly located the first aid kit and shifted through its contents until he found the small bottle of painkillers. Slipping the bottle into his pocket, he returned to the room.

Dean was still snoring when he got back, and it took all of his self control not to throw something at his brother; not to wake him as he had so rudely done to Sam. Instead, resisting the urge, he moved silently into the bathroom, before closing the door and switching on the light. Desperate to ease some of his pain, he eagerly opened the bottle of painkillers, swallowing two with a handful of water. The last two. Now, they were officially out of painkillers.

Putting the empty bottle back in his pocket, he slumped to the ground, waiting in anticipation for the pills to have the desired effect. Tiredly he rubbed his eyes, knowing that for him at least, it was going to be a long night.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dean woke up just as the sun was rising in the sky. Stretching, he looked across at his still sleeping brother, twisted under the motel's sheets in the adjacent bed.

Dean lay there a few minutes, enjoying those few moments when the bed is still warm, and there's no hurry to move. Another stretch and he got out of bed, quickly pulling on a pair of jeans and a shirt. Sitting down, he pulled on his boots before grabbing his wallet, keys and phone, and leaving the room. He needed coffee.

Returning to the room 10 minutes later, 2 large cups of coffee and a bag of donuts in hand, Dean was surprised to find Sam still fast asleep. Putting the coffee and donuts down on the table, he kicked the corner of Sam's bed, causing it to bump jarringly into the wall.

"Sammy! Daylight's wasting." Dean said, standing beside Sam's bed, watching as his brother woke.

Sam grudgingly opened his eyes, blinking blearily at Dean. He groaned, not yet ready to face the new day.

"God Dean. You could have let me sleep a bit longer" he complained.

"I got coffee and donuts" Dean replied, as if that made every thing else alright.

Reluctantly Sam got out of bed and pulled on some fresh clothes. He took the offered cup of coffee, not managing to swallow more than a few mouthfuls. He passed on the donuts.

"You know Dean; we don't have to rush out of here today." He ventured, hoping that Dean would take the subtle hint.

"Nah, might as well hit the road." Dean replied

"We could take a day to rest, restock the supplies…" Sam suggested

"Sooner we, leave, sooner we get there Sammy." Dean absently replied, already collecting their things from around the room and packing up their gear.

Sam packed his bag as he watched Dean moving about the room with concern.

"Dean" he started "You know man, it wasn't our fault. There was nothing we could have done differently. You've got to let it go."

"Sam"

"Dean. If you want to talk about it…" Sam suggested gently.

"Ready to go?" Dean responded, tossing his bag onto his shoulder and heading towards the door.

Sam followed Dean to the car, resigned to another long day on the road.

TBC.

**A/N:** _I know I haven't portrayed Dean in the kindest light, but things will change – I promise – we know he can't stay angry when Sam's involved. __Please review__; I live for feedback and it inspires me to continue. As usual, all mistakes are my own._


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters … **

**Shared Burdens**

**Chapter 2**

They drove without conversation for the first hour. Neither of them spoke; and the volume from the stereo speakers was loud enough to deter all conversation. Sam wasn't keen to initiate another chat with Dean anyway. There were only so many rebuttals he could take this early in the morning. He knew that Dean wouldn't talk until Dean wanted to talk. All he could do was leave the channels of conversation open and be available for when his brother was ready.

After the first hour, Sam decided that total silence would be much preferable to the constant drum of the music. It showed no signs of relenting and the continual beat had only been punctuated with a few moments of quiet when Dean had changed cassette tapes. The music was starting to grate on his nerves, but he resisted asking Dean to turn the volume down. Sam could be stubborn too. He wasn't going to be the first one to speak; the one to break the conversational silence.

Two hours into the trip, and Sam's headache had returned with pounding ferocity. The sun was now rising higher in the sky, and he tried uselessly to block the harsh rays out of his eyes. The music blared relentlessly, and he could no longer differentiate the tune over the rhythmic and relentless beat, each thump sending a pulsating slice of pain straight through his skull.

Slumping a little further down in his seat, Sam clenched his teeth to hold back his moan of pain that the movement caused. He shifted in his cramped spot, desperately seeking a comfortable position. Finally he settled with his body angled away from Dean, head resting on an angle between the back of the seat and the side window. He wasn't comfortable, but it was the best he could do in the circumstances.

He'd hoped that Dean would stop for a breakfast break, but belatedly remembered how his brother had scoffed down the whole bag of donuts this morning, not letting a crumb go to waste. His stomach ached and he curled an arm over it securely, trying to stave off the hollow feeling in his gut. Maybe he should have tried to force down a donut this morning, he thought, remembering that he'd also skipped dinner the night before. Still, he resisted asking Dean to stop.

By the end of the third hour, Sam had reached the end of his endurance. Glancing across at his brother, he resentfully noticed that Dean was driving totally within his 'zone', humming along with the music and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, keeping in tempo with the music. Dean always seemed to be at his most relaxed behind the wheel of the Impala; out on the open road where he was in control and oblivious to everything else but the driving and the music.

Hesitantly, Sam sought to break Dean's concentration. "Dean" he said, just loud enough to be heard over the Led Zeppelin song, that they'd already listened to twice.

Dean didn't respond, and Sam wasn't sure if his brother just hadn't heard him, or if he was deliberately being ignored. It didn't matter. He really needed for them to take a stop as he was desperate to use the bathroom. He really needed to make Dean listen.

"Dean" he said more forcefully, getting a sideways glance from his brother. "I gotta take a leak man."

His plea was met with a loud exaggerated sigh.

"Yeah. I gotta get gas. Next town, we'll pull over." Dean replied curtly, as if needing gas was his sole reason for agreeing to stop.

They drove for another twenty minutes, driving past the first gas station before stopping at the second. Sam was sure Dean did that out of spite. Sam was wriggling uncomfortably in his seat by this time, and if Dean wasn't so concerned about the upholstery, Sam thought he might have just kept going. Dean had really pulled out all stops to be a giant asshole today.

Sam had the door half open before the car had come to a complete stop. He was now very desperate to get out. If he'd been feeling steadier on his feet he'd have run for the restrooms. As it was, it wasn't his dignity that made him walk at such a slow pace. It was the concentrated effort of appearing steady on his feet. If he'd thought he felt unwell in the car, the sudden change in altitude on standing and the need to support his own weight had him reeling.

Finally reaching the restrooms without incident, Sam went about his business quickly, although he was in no hurry to get back in the car. The restroom was filthy, a bucket and mop obviously a very distant memory for the damp room. Viewing his dismal surroundings, Sam rubbed his stomach as if this would alleviate the inner pain. It didn't. He knew that there was still blood in his urine and that the tenderness around his abdomen and ribs wasn't dissipating over time as he'd secretly hoped. If anything, it was getting a little worse. With irrational optimism, he decided that maybe hunger had something to do with it and thought about getting something to eat before they hit the road again.

Exiting the restroom, he noticed that Dean was waiting by the car for him, strumming his fingers on the hood in impatience. Let him wait, Sam thought, walking with purposeful determination into the rundown gas station to grab something to eat. Using the last five dollars in his wallet, he purchased a couple of bottles of water and a dried up sandwich to go. Taking the items back to the car, he settled again in his seat before looking at his brother.

"Want half a sandwich?" he asked as he tossed Dean a bottle of water.

Dean grabbed the water, but declined on the sandwich, before revving up the engine and accelerating back onto the road.

Sam had no idea how far Dean intended to drive today. They were in no hurry to reach their destination, so they didn't really need to drive relentlessly non stop down the highway. After all, they were only following up a vague lead of a spirit haunting an old deserted house. A lead that Dean had decided was a job. The supposed spirit hadn't caused any deaths so far, and as the old house was deserted, Sam couldn't see the need to rush. The pace Dean was setting though was unrelenting, and Sam could only hope that Dean would soon become more reasonable.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0**

Sam absently picked at his sandwich, having no real appetite to actually eat the thing now that he had it. Just looking at the bread with the dried up crusts and soggy centre made him feel a little nauseous. He picked at the bread, taking small bites and making a pretense of eating. Admitting defeat, he put the sandwich back in its wrapper five minutes later and placed it on the seat. He took a few sips of the water, washing down the lingering taste the sandwich left in his mouth.

They drove until lunchtime with only a few words spoken between them.

Sam was surprised when Dean pulled the Impala to a stop at an average looking motel, parking near the reception. After all, it was only lunchtime, and Dean usually liked to drive for much longer. Sam looked with concern at his brother, trying to gauge his disposition.

Dean noticed Sam's glare. "Gonna get us a room" Dean said, before leaving the car.

Sam was nonplussed and watched Dean as he quickly secured them a room, returning a couple of minutes later with two keys jiggling in his hand. Dean swiftly moved the Impala to a car space on the far side of the motel, before getting out and popping the trunk. Sam followed his brother, imitating his actions in removing his bag and entering their motel room.

The room was average. That was the best description Sam could conjure to describe the room. A small room with twin beds spaced only a few feet apart. Except for a dresser, TV, table and two vinyl chairs, the room was devoid of decoration. No framed prints to hide the tired wall paper or rugs to conceal the worn carpet. Sam placed his bag near the far bed, before swinging around to face Dean.

"Stopping early for the day" Sam stated, intonation making the statement more of a question.

"Yeah, thought we'd grab some lunch before hitting some bars, maybe a pool hall." Dean replied. "We're getting a little low on cash. …Thought now was as good a time as any to try and get a little padding in the wallet."

"Yeah …okay" Sam reluctantly replied.

Going to a bar for the afternoon was the last thing Sam wanted. Dealing with an inebriated Dean didn't rate much higher, but maybe this is what his brother needed. A few hours to unwind.

Dean shrugged on his jacket before walking to the door. "Coming?" he asked as Sam remained unmoving.

"Actually …Dean …I already had that sandwich. …Okay if I stay here, maybe rest a bit and meet up with you later?" Sam asked, trying to keep the hope from showing on his face.

Dean looked at Sam, trying to stem the discontent he felt. "You okay?" he asked, wondering if his brother had a legitimate reason for bailing on him. Again. He thought Sam looked a little pale, but then again, Sam was usually pale. That happened when you spent most of your day in a car.

"I'm fine." Sam assured Dean. "Just got a slight headache …nothing a quick rest won't fix" he said, unsure whether he was trying to convince Dean or himself. "…I'll meet up with you later."

"You sure Sam?" Dean asked.

"Yeah." Sam said with conviction.

Dean just nodded before opening the door to go.

" …ah Dean …I'm outta cash …can I borrow a fifty?" Sam quickly added as an after thought.

Dean turned in the doorway and looked back at Sam with suspicion.

"...might change my mind later and grab something to eat …before we meet up" Sam added.

Dean opened his wallet, looking inside it woefully. "You know, wouldn't hurt for you to contribute a bit more to the finances round here." Dean said peevishly before handing Sam a twenty. "…All I can spare" he said.

Sam took the twenty, knowing Dean was right, and feeling guilty for it. He might earn it through dubious means, Sam thought, but Dean was still the main cash contributor. He often felt like a dead weight in that area and didn't need Dean to vocalize it.

"Thanks Dean" he said, eyes cast downwards, feeling like a petulant child being handed his pocket money.

"Yeah, well …got my phone. Catch ya later." Dean let the door click closed behind him.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

The rigidity left Sam's body as soon as Dean left the room. Easing himself onto the bed and lying down flat, Sam was unable to prevent the single tear from sliding down his cheek. He wiped it away angrily.

His head had been aching for hours and the relief of being able to lie horizontal on the soft bed with the light muted through the curtains and only the distant sound of traffic was at that moment unsurpassed. Closing his eyes, Sam took a moment to enjoy the sensation.

Although appreciating the softness of the bed, lying there with his eyes closed only resulted in Sam blocking out peripheral distractions and as such cause him to become more focused on himself. Particularly on how he felt. Lying in the shadows, Sam could, without touching, feel the aches and pains coursing through his body, competing for attention. Probing those painful areas only accentuated his pain.

Resigned, Sam knew that as much as he'd love to lie on the bed for the next couple of hours, now may be his only opportunity to slip away and see a doctor without Dean's knowledge or interference.

Reluctantly. Slowly. Painfully. Carefully. He got up.

Slipping the twenty dollars in his wallet and grabbing the extra room key from the dresser, Sam slipped from the room.

Spotting a maid leaving another room, he hastily got directions on how to get into town, on foot, and vague instructions on how to get to the only free medical clinic in the area. Fortunately, one of the benefits of staying in the dingier parts of town; was that they were usually closer to free clinics and cheap eats.

Sam hoped the maid's directions were accurate and that the clinic wasn't too far away. He really didn't have the energy to walk far, and definitely didn't have the money for a cab.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Ten minutes later Sam reached the clinic, relief washing over him. Entering the small waiting room, he was pleasantly surprised that there were only a few other patients in the room. He wearily wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead, before making his way over to the reception area on unsteady legs. Giving his name and basic details, he gratefully sank into one of the hard plastic chairs, settling in to wait.

TBC

**A/N:** Sorry for the slow update. _I sat down and wrote the first chapter to this story really quickly –when I was in a bad mood it just flowed out. Mood improved, I now seem to be struggling to write Dean in the same nasty light. Hence, this chapter has been a bit slow and is mainly Sam. Suggestions very welcome. I love reviews!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**Warning: **A few swear words in this chapter.

**Shared Burdens**

**Chapter 3**

The first half hour of waiting he spent weighing up plausible scenarios in his mind that he could use to describe to the doctor how he sustained his injuries. He couldn't tell the truth, and really, tired as he was; it was difficult to come up with a story that didn't sound ridiculous. He just didn't lie as well as Dean.

He spent the next half hour staring off into space in mindless boredom. There was a stack of tatty magazines in the corner, but he knew they wouldn't hold his interest. He wasn't even interested enough to get up and go and get one.

"Sam Adamson" called the receptionist.

It took Sam a moment to recognize the name he'd given on arrival. Shaking his head to clear the daze was a mistake. He knew it the moment it reminded him that his head still hurt like hell. He really needed to hit the doctor up for some painkillers.

Heading in the direction indicated by the receptionist, Sam slowly made his way down a dimly lit corridor, observing the wall sign and switching his phone off on the way. The open door to the Doctor's room was at the end of the corridor.

"Come in …take a seat" motioned the young doctor, closing the door behind Sam.

"I'm Doctor Reynolds."

"Sam"

"How can I help you today Sam."

Sam looked at the doctor hesitatingly, not sure how to start. Doctor Reynolds was young and clean cut, and seemed like the type that wanted to make a difference. It was the only reason Sam could think of that he'd be volunteering in a place like this. His kind face helped though to put Sam somewhat at ease.

"I … ah…"

"Why don't you start by telling me what the problem is?" Doctor Reynolds asked gently, looking earnestly at Sam.

"Couple of days ago I …ah … fell down some stairs… think I've maybe bruised some ribs …and my stomach hurts a bit.

"Okay Sam, I'm going to start by taking your blood pressure, and then we'll get you up on the bed." Doctor Reynolds said, already wrapping the blood pressure cuff around Sam's arm.

"Your blood pressure's a little high" he said, making notions on a file.

Sam sat uncomfortably in the chair and tried not to fidget.

"If you could sit up on the bed; …take your shirt off."

Under the observant eye of the doctor, Sam gingerly pushed himself from the chair and took the few necessary steps over to the high medical bed, its age and worn shape struggling to be disguised under the crisp white sheet. With fumbling fingers he clumsily unbuttoned his shirt, placing it on the end of the bed before hoisting himself up to sit rigidly, facing the doctor.

Doctor Reynolds took in Sam's bruised and scarred body with undisguised shock. It looked as though the kid had come off second best after a run in with a truck. Most of the scars were old and showed evidence of various childhood injuries or traumas. Bruises were mottled over both the abdomen and chest areas, a few extending around the sides. They varied in color from mottled yellow to vivid purple, and he didn't think they'd all happened in the one fall. The fact that his patient had come to this free clinic revealed that he had no money or insurance, but he wasn't one of the doctor's usual patients. He was also too clean and well dressed to be homeless, and too well spoken to be a transient. Taking in Sam's appearance and demeanor, he knew Sam was too old to be a runaway, so he couldn't help but conclude that Sam was possibly being abused by a partner or family member.

"Relax Sam. Can you lie back for me?"

Sam consciously willed his muscles to relax, slumping slightly before easing back on the bed.

Doctor Reynolds moved to the side of the bed and looked directly at Sam. "I'm just going to feel for any tenderness. Let me know what hurts." He wanted to reassure Sam before placing his hands on him.

Sam gave a small nod of his head in reply; reluctantly readying himself for the pain he knew was to follow.

He couldn't hold back a flinch when Doctor Reynolds put a light hand on his side.

Hesitating before commencing his examination, Doctor Reynolds couldn't help the question that escaped.

"Sam, did someone do this to you …is someone hurting you?"

"No" he forcefully stated. "…I told you …I fell."

"Okay Sam. Try to relax … I'm just going to press down …tell me when you feel any tenderness or pain."

Sam couldn't hold back his gasps of pain when the Doctor palpitated the sore bruised areas on his abdomen.

"Yeah, there." Sam whispered when Doctor Reynolds touched a particularly painful spot.

Finishing his examination of Sam's chest and abdominal region, Dr Reynolds made some more notes in his file.

"Okay Sam, you can sit up now" he said. "During this …fall …did you ah….get hit…hurt…any where else?"

"Yeah, my head. …got a killer headache" Sam rubbed his fingers on his temple.

"Let's take a look."

Dr Reynolds then felt the tender raised bump at the back of Sam's head before shining a small penlight in his eyes and checking their dilation.

"That's a nasty knock, but it looks like you escaped a concussion …this time."

"Sam, you can put your shirt back on."

Sitting on the bed, Sam pulled his shirt on, watching as the doctor made more notes in the file. He'd have a novel soon, Sam thought.

"Ah, there's something else…" Sam hesitated, embarrassed, "…there's been some blood …when I take a leak."

"Okay Sam, when you're ready, I'll need a urine sample."

Dr Reynolds retrieved a small plastic container from a drawer and handed it to Sam.

"Bathroom's right next door."

"Right." Sam replied, taking the offered container before leaving the room.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam returned to the room a few moments later, specimen container concealed in his large hand. He placed it on the edge of the doctor's desk before taking a seat.

Doctor Reynolds took the specimen over to a bench running along the far wall. "I'm running a quick dipstick test for blood in your urine" he informed Sam.

Sam waited impatiently for the test to be carried out; watching as the doctor finally removed his gloves and washed his hands before returning to sit behind his desk.

"Okay Sam. Well, the good news is that your ribs aren't cracked or broken. It's obvious though that you've got extensive bruising, and these areas are going to be very tender until the bruising goes down. After feeling your abdominal area, I'm concerned that you may have bruised a kidney, or the surrounding area. The small amount of blood in your urine, which I've confirmed with the dipstick test, also points to this possibility."

Sam nodded his understanding and waited for the doctor to continue.

"Haematuria, which is blood in the urine, tells us that there may be something wrong with a kidney which needs further investigation. In your case, as I can see the external blunt trauma that you've suffered to that area, so we already know the cause. Internal damage from this trauma is a real possibility. …unfortunately, we just don't have the facilities here to carry out further tests. I'd like to refer you to the hospital across town for some blood tests and scans."

Doctor Reynolds noticed that Sam seemed uncomfortable with his suggestion.

"Sam, I realize that you probably don't have insurance, but it only takes a couple of hours for the tests to be conducted by the hospital, and it can be done with you as an out-patient. I can't stress enough how important it is to rule out any renal tears or further bleeding. If there is only external kidney damage and minor bleeding, this may be able to be treated non-surgically; including bed rest for one to two weeks or until the bleeding is reduced. You would however need to be closely observed to make sure that you don't show any signs of kidney failure… and make sure that you don't have any more trauma in that area, …any area."

"Yeah, okay"

"Sam, do you have anywhere safe to go where you'll be able to rest for a couple of weeks."

The doctor was looking at him intently. Sam felt really uncomfortable, well aware that the doctor thought he was being beaten or abused. Did he really look that pathetic, he wondered.

"You should be able to get seen at the hospital out-patients clinic this afternoon if you go there straight away, before it gets busy with the late afternoon rush. I'll ring them and let them know to expect you. I'm also going to prescribe you something for the pain and to help reduce the swelling. If you take the prescription to the drug store a couple of doors down, they'll fill it out for a very reasonable price."

"Thanks." Sam gratefully took the offered prescription from the doctor.

"Sam, it's really important that you take things easy and get the rest."

"Yeah, I will" he said, nodding his thanks and leaving the room.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

The sun was blinding as Sam made his way back out on to the sidewalk. Searching his pocket, he fished out his phone, switching it back on. It started beeping immediately, and scrolling through the menu, he saw that he'd missed quite a few calls from Dean. He was still checking the missed calls when the phone suddenly rang. He answered it, instinctively knowing the caller would be Dean.

"Hey" he said.

"Sam, where the hell have you been? I've been trying to get hold of you for ages. …Why the fuck haven't you answered your phone?"

Sam interrupted the tirade. "Dean, I …"

"Whatever Sam. I really don't give a fuck."

Sam snapped. Dean was really starting to piss him off. "Yeah Dean, right back at you."

"You're a real asshole Sam. Always thinking about yourself, ..what you want. Well I've been waiting here for you to show …"

"Dean, if you'd just listen for a sec" Sam cut Dean off. "I was wondering if you could come pick me up, I…"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me Sam. You…"

"Doesn't matter Dean" he said resignedly. "I'll see you back at the motel later."

Sam disconnected the call. When it rang again a moment later, he switched it off.

Sam tucked the doctor's prescription into his jeans pocket. He doubted he'd have enough cash for both a cab and the pain killers, and he didn't have it in him to make the long trek to the hospital on foot. As it was, he was going to have to use the only credit card he had at the hospital. He really should have tossed the card already, as it was nearly maxed out. He hoped he'd be out of the hospital before they ran it.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam spent three hours in total at the hospital out-patients clinic. The doctor's phone call seemed to help expedite his movement through the queue of waiting patients, and Sam was grateful. There was little he hated more than hospital waiting rooms.

He was compliant through the numerous tests and scans the doctors conducted, hoping to get out of the hospital as quickly as possible. As he was prodded and moved during the last scan, he had to swallow back the nausea that washed over him from the pain that he was forced to endure. There was nothing gentle about the ultrasound probe pressing into his abdomen, and he couldn't wait for it to be over.

At last, he was able to get dressed back into his clothes, before he waited to meet with the attending doctor. Sitting carefully on the hard molded plastic chair, he fervently wished he'd had had enough money to buy those pain killers. He could really use them about now.

It was ten minutes before a tired middle aged doctor entered the room. He took a final look at the file in his hand before addressing Sam.

"Mr Adamson."

"It's Sam"

"Well, Sam, I've spoken with Dr Reynolds, who you saw earlier, and gone over your test results. I'm concerned about the slight bleeding which is originating from your left kidney. The initial x-ray showed a thin rim of fluid around your apparently normal left kidney, however, the CT scan has showed up an anterior tear in the upper half of the kidney, with bleeding into the perinephric and retroperitoneal fat. Both fragments are perfused."

Sam looked at the doctor in confusion, unsure of how to take the news.

"So, what does that mean?" he asked, needing more information and clarification.

"Your kidney may return to normal function without needing any surgical intervention. I stress, may return. It's in no way a sure thing. To start with, I would prefer to manage the injury conservatively, and see if the haematuria …blood in the urine, resolves itself over the next week or so. This will mean complete bed rest, and follow up tests to closely monitor your condition."

"Okay. When do I need to come back?" Sam asked, relieved at hearing the doctor's words.

"I'd actually prefer that you were admitted to the hospital, so that we can monitor your recovery and ensure you get total bed rest."

"No …I don't really need to stay. I can get plenty of rest, and come back for the checkups."

The doctor knew it was useless to argue. Sam clearly didn't have any insurance, and was obviously not in a position to pay for medical care. The doctor felt that he could have gotten Sam a bed in a ward if he pushed, but Sam was plainly unwilling. He encountered Sam's type on a regular basis, and knew that stubbornness and pride would force his patient to take the hard route, regardless of the help being offered.

"Total bed rest means only getting up to use the bathroom. Have you got someone to stay with; someone to help you with daily necessities, cooking, meals, laundry, shopping?

Sam hesitated for just a moment. "Yeah."

"You're going to continue to be in a fair bit of pain, so take the medication prescribed by Dr Reynolds as directed. You may feel nauseous for a few days and very tender, but this will hopefully lessen as you heal. If you need something more for the pain, come back and see me. In fact, if the pain gets worse or your condition deteriorates in any way, you really need to come back to the hospital immediately. If the bleeding worsens, or becomes more profuse, it could be life threatening, requiring surgery. This isn't something to mess around with."

"I'll be careful."

"I'll make an appointment for you to come back in a few days."

The doctor wrote down some details on a card. "This has your appointment time and the hospital number on it. I've also written my direct telephone extension number on the back. I want you to call if you have any concerns; otherwise I'll see you in a few days."

Sam took the card, looking at the details. He realized that until now, he hadn't known, hadn't even thought to ask, the doctor's name.

"Thanks Doctor Hartman".

Leaving the hospital, he considered switching his phone back on and calling his brother. He was exhausted, his head throbbed, and he was still feeling slightly nauseous. Thinking back to his last conversation with Dean, he realized that he wasn't yet ready to go another round with his brother. He just wasn't feeling up to it.

He felt the doctor's prescription in his pocket, desperate to have the relief offered by the pain medication. He'd used nearly half his cash getting to the hospital, and doubted he'd be able to afford to purchase what he needed. Making his was to the drug store across the street; he approached the counter and handed over the script.

"Would you mind telling me how much this would cost." he asked, illogically hoping that it was within his budget.

On hearing the reply, he felt disappointment even though he'd anticipated the answer. He took back the prescription, electing instead to buy a cheap packet of Tylenol. He swallowed two dry on his way out of the drug store.

There were plenty of cabs outside the hospital, and Sam had no trouble hailing one to take him back to the motel. After paying the driver, he had just enough money to get a cold bottle of water from the motel vending machine before going to the room.

Entering the quiet room, he noticed with surprise that Dean hadn't yet returned. Wearily, he emptied his pockets onto the dresser, retrieving his phone. Turning it on, he saw three waiting messages from Dean.

He expected the first message.

"Sam, I can't believe you fucking hung up on me. Turn your God damn phone back on…"

He deleted the rest of the message, not needing to listen to it to know that Dean would be ranting and swearing for a few more minutes.

"Sam, turn on your phone. How the hell…"

He deleted the second message mid stream, reluctantly waiting to hear the third.

"Sam. …I'm sorry. …Just turn on your phone. …Call me when you get this."

Sam smiled tiredly, deciding to have a quick shower before returning his brother's call.

Desperate to lie down in the bed, he showered only long enough to wash the grime and sweat from his body. Returning to the bedroom, he let his damp towel fall to the floor and carefully dressed in loose sweats and a t-shirt. The day's exertions had taken their toll, and it was now a struggle to remain standing. He grabbed the bottle of cold water and his phone before sitting on the edge of his bed. Taking a long swallow of the water, he composed himself before dialing Dean.

Lying back on the bed, he waited for his brother to answer.

TBC.

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, they're inspiring. Please, keep them coming!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** _Loved receiving and reading all the reviews. As a thank you, and because I couldn't resist the pleas to update quickly, here's the next chapter._

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**Shared Burdens**

**Chapter 4**

Dean sat on the hard wooden bar stool, perusing his surroundings. The place was starting to get busy and liven-up with the after work crowd beginning to drift in. After hitting a couple of bars in the area, and with a few hundred dollars lining his pocket, he'd finally come to this bar to unwind.

His afternoon had been clouded by his inability to relax, let go, and get into the swing of things. It took him a while to realize that it wasn't the past hunt that had him feeling remorseful, it was how disgracefully he'd treated Sam. He had to admit that he couldn't really blame Sam for bailing on him and instead choosing to spend the afternoon alone. He'd been like a bear with a sore head, giving Sam the silent treatment one moment before snapping his head off the next. He'd known he was doing it, known he was treating Sam poorly, but just couldn't seem hold back from being a bastard every time he opened his mouth. Now here he was, pathetically wallowing in his own guilt over Sam and doing nothing about it.

He was roused from his thoughts by the persistent ring of his phone. He took a quick look at the caller-id even though he was pretty sure he knew who it was.

"Hey Sammy" he answered.

"Hey Dean. Look man, I'm sorry…"

"No. No man. I'm sorry. …What I said …you know …I didn't mean it".

"Yeah man. …We good?" Sam couldn't keep the hope from his voice.

"Yeah, we're good. …You back at the room?"

"Yeah …gonna catch an early night."

"Dude, it's barely dark. You know, there's this hot chick at the bar …"

"Forget it Dean. …anyway, wouldn't want to cramp your style."

"Couldn't happen Sammy, couldn't happen." Dean said with a grin. "Look, I'll catch you later, okay?"

"Yeah Dean."

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

With a smile still on his face, Sam eased the phone from his ear and tossed it towards the table. Some of the tension eased from his body, knowing Dean was going to be okay; from knowing that he and Dean were going to be okay.

Sam eased a little further back down the bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. Closing his eyes, exhaustion triumphed over the aches in his body and he promptly drifted into a light sleep.

When Sam woke next it was night, but the room was dimly lit by the lights outside. Checking his watch, he noted that he'd only slept for about an hour. Although his body and head throbbed relentlessly, he thought it was probably the hunger that woke him. Except for picking at a sandwich earlier, he'd eaten nothing all day. Yesterday hadn't been much better. Knowing there was nothing he could do about the hunger until Dean returned, he decided he could at least swallow a couple more Tylenol.

Intense dizziness overwhelmed him as soon as he stood, forcing him back onto the bed. Slumped at the edge of the mattress, he dropped his head in to his hands, waiting for the feeling to pass. When the room had stopped spinning, he again rose slowly to his feet, careful this time to keep his hand on the wall for support. Looking around the room, he spied the packet of Tylenol where he'd left it after emptying his pockets on the dresser; he quickly took the couple of steps to retrieve it before returning to sit on his bed. He washed two more pills down with a gulp of water before slowly sipping the rest of the refreshing liquid, then letting the empty bottle drop to the floor.

Lying back under the covers, he waited desperately for the pills to kick in, desperate for the release of sleep. He concentrated on breathing deeply, hoping he hadn't made a mistake in drinking the water too quickly. He was sure he could feel it sloshing from side to side in his empty stomach, churning and tossing. He swallowed the nausea down, turning on to his side and wrapping his arms across his middle. Closing his eyes, he waited for sleep.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dean stealthily entered the motel room, just in case Sam was already asleep. It was still early, but with Sam's unusual sleeping patterns, you never knew. On entry, he instantly took in the dim room and the huddled form under the covers on the far bed. Smiling, he digested himself of his jacket before rummaging through his bag for his clean sweats and toiletries. He was in the bathroom with the door closed before he turned on the light. Stripping off his clothes and stepping in to the shower, he hummed quietly as the water washed over him.

The sound of the shower was the first thing Sam heard when he woke. Dean was back he thought with relief. Pushing up a little in the bed and easing onto his back, he settled to wait for his brother to finish in the bathroom.

Dean finished up in the bathroom, turning the light off before opening the door to the main room, not wanting to disturb Sam. The light coming in through the thin curtains sufficiently illuminated the room so that he could easily see his way.

"Dean, you're back."

"Knew you went to college for a reason Sammy" Dean chuckled, seeing his brother propped up in the bed awake.

"Very funny Dean."

Dean balled up his damp towel and propelled it at Sam. Bull's-eye he thought as it sailed through the air towards its target.

Sam saw Dean toss the towel. Eyes wide open, it seemed that everything happened in slow motion, yet his reactions were too sluggish to ward off the projectile. It hit him dead centre in the stomach. He wouldn't have thought a towel could cause so much agony. He felt the blood drain from his face as a wave of agony washed over him. Gasping, he clutched a hand over his stomach trying to stem the pain.

Dean grinned as the towel hit its target. Then, the smile disappeared, quickly replaced with a look of shock as he watched Sam turn a ghastly shade of pale and gasp in pain.

"Sammy" he said, advancing quickly towards Sam's side.

"Dean" Sam gasped, the pain radiating through him.

Sam struggled to shove the sheets aside in his need to get to the bathroom; already half out of the bed by the time Dean reached his side.

"Sammy, what's wrong?" Dean uttered in concern.

"Bathroom …sick" was his curt reply. Sam could feel the nausea rising in his throat and knew he was going to be sick. Now. He swallowed convulsively, desperately trying to delay the inevitable.

Recognizing Sam's symptoms and instantly understanding the urgency of the situation, Dean helped his brother from the bed and in to the bathroom. Sam leaned on Dean heavily, needing his brother's support to make it to the bathroom without delay. Reaching the toilet, he swayed unsteadily until Dean helped lower him to his knees. No longer holding back, he gripped the edge of the toilet with trembling hands as the bile rose swiftly up his throat.

Vomiting was agony, made worse by the limited contents of his stomach. Before long, Sam was reduced to dry heaves, each spasm causing shafts of pain to radiate through his body.

Dean kept a hand securely on Sam's upper back throughout the ordeal, ready to support Sam should he collapse. He cringed as the heaves racked his brother's body, trying unsuccessfully to look away. Dean rubbed Sam's back as the heaves lessened to be intermingled with careful spitting. Stroking Sam's back in soothing circles, he was desperate to convey his reassurance and comfort.

Sam was exhausted when the episode was over, but was unwilling to move too far away from the toilet for a few more minutes. He wanted to make sure it was over, for now at least.

He could feel his body slumping, no longer having the energy or necessity to hold itself upright, and he was powerless to stop it. He felt the comforting hand of his brother as he folded his knees to sit on the floor, leaning on the wall for support.

"Sammy, what's wrong? …Talk to me…" Dean pleaded.

"I …I'm okay" Sam stuttered, still trying to get his breathing under control.

"Obviously Sam."

"Dean. Can …can you give me a couple of minutes?" Sam practically begged his brother.

"Okay Sam. Two minutes. Then you're talking."

Sam watched as Dean strode from the room, pausing to glance keenly at Sam from the doorway. Sam looked away, needing a few moments of privacy to regain his composure.

Leaving the bathroom door wide open, Dean strode back in to the bedroom, switching on the main light on his way. He started pacing across the room, looking in on Sam every time he passed the bathroom. Observing Sam's pallor and unsuccessfully masked pain, Dean was having difficulty giving Sam the couple of minutes he'd promised. He was really worried. He'd seen Sam suffer through visions and be injured during hunts, but seeing his brother tonight had his protective instincts on high alert. He didn't like seeing Sam in pain; in pain and not knowing what was wrong.

Pacing past the dresser for the third time, Dean glanced at the jumble of items resting where Sam had obviously emptied his pockets. The small white card with a hospital emblem printed in the corner secured his instant attention. Unmindful of Sam's privacy, he picked up the card, quickly scanning its details. In rapid succession, he then singled out the other piece of paper, immediately recognizing it as a doctor's prescription. A prescription for pain medication, which noticeably hadn't been filled.

Dean felt as though a knife had pierced his heart. The knowledge that Sammy had been at the hospital this afternoon, alone, while he'd been in a bar was devastating. He dropped the bits of paper back in place. Sam's two minutes were up. Dean wanted; no; he needed, some answers now.

Striding back into the bathroom, Dean was unsurprised to find Sam slumped in the same position. Sam looked really uncomfortable. Quickly flushing the toilet, he crouched down to Sam's side.

Sam's head hung weakly towards his chest, and Dean gently placed his hand under Sam's chin, tipping his face upwards to look him in the eye.

Dean was upset to see the utter look of defeat on Sam's face. He could see the dark hollows under his brother's eyes and the tracks along his cheeks where a few tears must have escaped. He brushed aside the curl which threatened to flop across Sam's eye.

"Ready to get up?" he gently asked.

"Yeah."

Hearing Sam's whispered reply, Dean wrapped his arm across Sam's back, hooking his hand securely under Sam's arm. As soon as he felt Sam attempt to rise, he braced himself and used all his strength to help hoist Sam to a standing position. Sam leaned on the sink for a moment, before turning on the water. He rinsed his mouth and splashed water on his face as Dean continued to support him. As soon as he shut off the water, he felt Dean's grip on him tighten, ready to help him back to bed.

Dean guided Sam's lanky body back to bed, relieved to have made the trip without incident. Sam had leaned heavily on him the whole way, which only caused Dean's anxiety to increase. Dean knew from experience that Sam liked to be independent, and even when he was injured, Sam only reluctantly accepted assistance.

Dean waited until Sam was back in bed, covers tucked around his shoulders, before he started the questioning he'd been forcibly holding in for the last few minutes.

"Sam, I want answers …now." Dean's soft gentle tone was in stark contrast to the harshness of his words.

TBC.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

**A/N:** _Yes, I do read all the reviews and listen to suggestions. It's what keeps me writing and updating. Really, who'd continue a story that nobody reviewed?_

_Special thank you to __Kaewi__, who suggested that Dean should find out that Sam was sick by accidentally hurting him. I thought I'd already inflicted enough pain on Sam …but apparently not._


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Reviews feed me.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**Shared Burdens**

**Chapter 5**

Looking at Dean, Sam knew he wouldn't be able to deter his brother from the conversation he was demanding. Truth be told, he had neither the energy nor the desire to keep everything to himself any longer. Tired and defeated, he was forced to admit that he needed Deans help; either that or go straight back to the hospital. He hated hospitals.

"Dean …after that last job …you know …both of us got tossed around a bit …and the last day or so …I haven't been feeling so great."

"Why the hell didn't you say something?"

"Knew you wanted to get going …didn't want you to feel that I was …"

"Whoa whoa, hold on …if I'd known you weren't fighting fit… …Man, you should have told me you were sick."

"Dean, I know …I'm sorry. I just though that maybe if I rested for a couple of days… I'd like, get better …sorry."

Dean paced and rubbed his hands across his face. He didn't want to say the wrong thing and was trying to choose his words carefully.

"You've nothing to be sorry about. I'm the one that's dragged you …shit Sam, when you asked to stop for a couple of days, I just brushed you off…" Dean was distraught as he remembered Sam's request that they take a couple of days off to rest, and his blatant disregard of it.

"Yeah well" Sam said with a grimace of pain "Might have to stay put for a little while. Doc said I have to rest for a few days."

"Is that where you went this afternoon? You should have told me. I… …Sammy?" Dean paused as Sam let a small whimper of pain escape. He watched helplessly as Sam rolled onto his side almost curled into a fetal position. He moved quickly to sit on the edge of Sam's bed, resting a hand on his brother's forehead.

"Sammy, …what's wrong?"

"Dean. …could you go to the drug store …pick up some pain pills for me …doc said they'd help."

"Yeah, 'cause I will." Dean said, going to the dresser and picking up the prescription. He looked at Sam carefully, seeing the lines of pain and misery etched on his face that he was unable to hide.

"God Sam, why didn't you pick them up earlier." He whispered, not happy to see the pain Sam was in.

"I …didn't have enough cash …though the Tylenol would help." Sam said, closing his eyes.

Dean wanted to question Sam some more, but saw that Sam's plea for the pain relief needed to take precedence. Quickly throwing on the clothes that he'd tossed aside earlier, Dean shoved the prescription in his pocket and grabbed the car keys. Sam's eyes remained closed, but from his jagged breathing it was obvious he wasn't asleep.

"I'll be back in a few minutes. You gonna be okay 'til I get back?"

"Yeah."

Dean quickly left the motel, eager to find a drug store and get back to Sam as soon as possible. The closest drug store was only a block away, and Dean located it easily. Within five minutes he was leaving the store, pills in hand. They'd cost just over ten dollars.

Dean drove in silence from the drug store back to the motel, lost in thought. He knew that Sam hadn't bought the pills because of him. He'd been too stingy, too mean, to give Sam more than twenty dollars cash when he'd asked for a loan. He'd been too selfish to give Sam a couple days off to rest, too selfish to pick Sam up when he'd asked for a lift.

He let the self derision wash over him as he brought the car to a stop outside their motel room. Getting out of the car, he gave himself a mental shake, determined to snap out of his guilt and self-reproach. Now wasn't the time to wallow in his own shame. He needed to finally pull himself together and be there for Sam.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam was still in the same position on the bed when he returned. Dean could see Sam's hand trembling slightly as it clenched the sheet. Filling a glass with water, Dean quickly returned to sit on the edge of Sam's bed.

"Here you go Sammy." Dean gently whispered as Sam moved a little to take the glass. Dean then opened the pill bottle, removing two pills and handing them to Sam.

After Sam had taken the pills, Dean put aside the rest of the glass of water and the pain pills, but remained perched on the edge of the bed. He watched his brother closely.

"Thanks Dean" Sam whispered, dropping his eyes under Dean's intent stare. He waited impatiently for the pills to take effect, doubting that he'd be able to sleep until the pain at least subsided.

"Sammy …what exactly did the doctor say?"

"I think he thought I was being abused or something." A small smirk escaped Sam's lips at the memory.

Dean didn't see the humor.

"I mean, when he saw all the bruises…" Sam explained.

"What bruises? …Show me." Dean demanded.

Without waiting for Sam's consent, Dean pulled the sheet down to Sam's waist and lifted up his brother's t-shirt. The color drained from Dean's face as he took in the mottled bruises covering Sam's abdomen and torso. He immediately understood why the doctor had been suspicious.

"Shit Sam" was all he could say as he gently pulled the t-shirt back down and reverently covered his brother again with the bed covers, smoothing them down.

"Sam." Dean said; a note of seriousness in his voice. "What _exactly_ did the doctor say?"

"I've got a bit of bruising ..."

"Really, no kidding Sam." Dean responded sarcastically, before giving Sam a stern look to go on.

Sam sighed and paused a moment before solemnly continuing "I had some scans and stuff at the hospital and they think maybe I bruised a kidney …that the kidney might have a small tear. …Really, I just have to rest for a few days and it should heal by itself."

"Anything else …I want to know every thing Sam."

"I've got another appointment to go back for a check-up in a few days. That's it."

Sam could feel the pain medication finally start to take effect, and after his exhausting day, his eyes were growing heavy as the lull of sleep pulled at him.

" 'Kay Dean?" he whispered before giving in to the sleep beckoning him.

Dean watched as the lines of pain disappeared from Sam's face as he succumbed to sleep. Reassured by the now deep and steady breathing, he pulled the covers a little higher over Sam, tucking them around him, as he'd done when Sam was younger. He watched Sam for a few moments before preparing himself for sleep and lying down on the adjacent bed. It wasn't long before he too surrendered to sleep.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dean slept in late the next morning, but he was still the first one awake. After quickly checking on Sam, he got dressed before grabbing the hospital card off the dresser and leaving the room.

He walked the short distance to the Impala, leaning on the hood, before dialing the direct number of the doctor scrawled on the back of the card. Although he trusted Sam implicitly, he wanted to make sure he was fully conversant with all the details about his hospital visit. He wasn't prepared to take any chances with Sam's health.

Dean reached Doctor Hartman directly and explained who he was and his relationship with Sam; Sam Adamson. The doctor was unwilling to discuss Sam's case or answer any of Dean's questions over the telephone, sprouting off about doctor patient confidentiality. Dean had to respect the doctor's stand and gave him extra kudos for having ethics. Instead, they had a conversation based on hypotheticals. If a patient had a tear in their kidney, what would the symptoms be? How would it be treated? Dean continued to ask his hypothetical questions until he felt he fully understood Sam's injury. After thanking the doctor for his help and promising to keep Sam's follow-up appointment, Dean ended the call.

The call with the doctor hadn't brought Dean any relief. In fact, he was now even more concerned about Sam's injury than he was before and also a little angry that Sam had white washed over the need for complete bed rest. Bed rest for a couple of weeks, not just a few days. He was also fearful of the possible complications should Sam's kidney not heal itself.

Loaded with this new information, Dean returned to the room.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam was just starting to rouse when Dean entered the room. Seeing him starting to wake, Dean quickly filled a glass of water and grabbed Sam's pain meds before going to his bedside. He didn't want Sam out of bed unnecessarily. He really didn't want Sam to move from the bed at all.

Sam looked at his brother through half open bleary eyes as he slowly came awake. Although he'd slept through the night, he still felt tired and very lethargic. He still felt sick. It seemed as though the room was slowly pulsating as everything moved in and out of focus, and Sam felt dizzy and disorientated as he fully opened his eyes.

TBC.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

**A/N:** _I'm writing this story as I post each chapter, and I've now reached a cross-road. I fear that maybe this story is a little too detailed and could be dragging on (already well over 10,000 words). I don't have a beta so I have to ask – any suggestions or preferences as to where I should go from here?_

_Press the button - review please!_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** _Thank you every one who reviewed. I feel there is a common thread – Sam has not yet had enough pain (I ask – how much is enough?) and Dean needs more guilt and angst. Comments and writing suggestions gratefully received and taken on board._

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**Shared Burdens**

**Chapter 6**

"Mornin' Sunshine." Dean said with a forced burst of cheerfulness, watching as his brother came more fully awake.

"How you feeling this morning?" Dean asked; a note of seriousness now in his voice.

"I'm fine Dean." Sam replied automatically, his pallor in stark contrast to his words.

Dean raised his eyebrows, giving Sam a look of disbelief.

"Sam?"

"Okay …I still feel a bit tired and dizzy …it hurts a bit." Sam absently put a hand across his abdomen before continuing "…but my headache's nearly gone."

"Well I spoke to your doctor this morning." Dean looked at Sam waiting for the anticipated protest.

Sam stared at Dean in resignation, knowing that Dean was now in brother mode, and there was nothing he could do to stop him. He waited expectantly for the brotherly rant that he knew was coming.

"Sam, your doctor said 'complete bed rest' so you're not moving from that spot …now, I want you to take your meds …and I'm gonna hunt us down some breakfast."

He watched as Sam obediently swallowed the pills before handing back the glass. Sam still looked very pale and shaky and he just didn't think that now was the time to read his brother the riot act about keeping secrets from him. There'd be time enough for that when Sam was well again. In the interim, he was going to focus his full attention on doing every thing necessary to ensure that his brother got his health back. And well, if Sam didn't like it that was just tough.

Sam watched as Dean got ready to head out the door again. He hoped his brother would bring back something plain, something edible for breakfast, but he didn't want to ask and appear ungrateful.

Opening the door to leave, Dean spared a moment to glance back at Sam. "Won't be long. …Stay in bed. …I mean it Sam."

Sam gave a small nod in acknowledgement of his brother's words. Only then did Dean leave the room, and give him a few moments of privacy. It was going to be a long few days, he thought, as the mental image of Dean confined with him in the motel room entered his mind. Dean went stir crazy very quickly, and the next few days were going to be a real test of endurance, for both of them.

Shifting on the bed, Sam realized that he really couldn't wait to use the bathroom. He also decided that he'd much prefer to do this task on his own. He still had his dignity, and could surely manage to use the bathroom without Dean's help.

Swinging his feet to the floor, Sam appreciated the need to take things slowly as his surroundings shifted out of focus for a moment; increasing the dizziness and making him feel slightly nauseous again. He took a few deep breaths and waited for everything to stop spinning before slowly rising to his feet. Using the wall for support, he made it slowly to the bathroom without incident. With relief at his accomplishment, he closed the bathroom door, breathing a sigh of relief.

He went about his business quickly, wanting to be safely back in his bed before Dean returned. Just as he was reaching for the door handle, he was suddenly assaulted by a shaft of pain piercing through his abdomen. It felt as though he'd just been stabbed right through the middle, the knife twisting and turning within him. Bending over with one hand on the sink for support, he panted through the pain, wrapping his other arm across his middle.

It took a few moments for the pain to pass, and when it finally did, he was trembling with a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead. Forcing his body upright, he splashed some cold water across his face before drying off with a towel. He leaned on the sink, needing to take a few moments to recover his strength before attempting the trip back to bed.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Heading back to the motel room, Dean swung the take out bag in his hand gently backwards and forwards. He was proud of his efforts, having gotten Sam some freshly squeezed juice, plain toast, yoghurt and fruit. His face fell in an instant as he entered the motel room and took in the empty bed and closed bathroom door.

"Sammy" he called urgently, putting the food on the table as he strolled past on his way to the bathroom.

"Sammy" he repeated at the bathroom door, pounding his fist on the wood panel for emphasis.

"Yeah Dean …be out in a sec." He heard muffled through the door.

Dean stood rigidly at the door, uncomfortable with having his brother concealed on the other side. Mere seconds ticked by, but to Dean it was too long.

"Sammy, I'm opening this door …you better be decent."

Just as Dean's fingers reached for the door knob, the door cracked open. Pulling the door fully ajar revealed Sam leaning on the frame for support.

"Thought I told you to stay in bed." He scolded, moving quickly to wrap and arm under Sam's shoulder to assist him back to bed.

"Had …had to …take a leak" Sam stuttered, the effort of getting back to bed difficult, even with his brother's help.

"Yeah well, you should've waited …I was only gone a few minutes Sam …surely even you can hold it in that long."

'Yeah, and I can take a leak by myself too." Sam replied sarcastically.

"Yeah, well not while I'm around …at least for the next few weeks anyway."

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Settled back in bed, Sam nibbled on the toast and sipped the juice that Dean had bought him. It had been a while since he'd eaten, so he was being slow and tentative, deciding to leave the fruit and yoghurt for the time being.

Dean observed his brother eating as he shoved his own bacon and egg burger haphazardly into his mouth, washing it down with long sips of his freshly brewed coffee.

Sam eyed Dean's coffee enviously. Not that he didn't appreciate the juice; he just felt that the coffee would give him the boost he needed. A jolt of caffeine was exactly what he needed to clear the cotton wool from his brain.

"Nah, not getting any." Dean stated, seeing Sam's eyes following his coffee cup.

"Doc didn't say anything about…"

"I said 'no' Sam".

"What are you, my mother?"

"Nah, I'm your awesome big brother." Dean smiled, taking an exaggerated long gulp of the brew.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

The morning set the tone for the rest of the day. After breakfast was finished, Sam lay back against the pillows as Dean fussed about the bed making sure he was comfortable and had everything he needed.

Sam watched some television as Dean grabbed a shower, relishing the few minutes break from his over anxious brother. He swore; if his brother asked him one more time if he was okay, he'd throw something at him.

By mid morning, Sam was asleep again, courtesy of the effects of the pain medication Dean fed him religiously. When Sam was still asleep at midday, Dean left him a note and slipped out to get them some lunch. When he returned, Sam was unmoved and the note was untouched.

Sam slept through until mid afternoon. Dean periodically checked on his brother, creeping close to check his breathing and feel his temperature. Satisfied that everything seemed normal, he spent most of his day flicking through the television channels, watching whatever grabbed his attention.

When Sam groggily started to wake up mid afternoon, Dean was at the side of his bed, waiting to feed him more pain pills. Sam swallowed them gratefully, before declining the sandwich Dean tried to hand him. He belatedly realized that he'd slept through lunch and half the day. That obviously explained why he felt so groggy and disorientated he thought.

When Sam seemed more fully awake, but still groggy enough to be taken advantage of, Dean challenged him to a round of cards. He was desperate for a break from daytime television and eagerly anticipated having some harmless fun at Sam's expense while he was obviously dopey on medication.

Sam enjoyed the time with his brother, disappointed that it took an injury to force them to take time off from the hunt. Dean looked more carefree and relaxed than he had in a long time, Sam thought, as they bantered back and forth. Sam even managed to get Dean to open up slightly about the past hunt that had caused his dark moods, coming to understand his brother a little better in the process.

"Dean, you can't put two cards down. …Are you cheating?"

"Sammy …would I cheat?" Dean perfected his guileless look.

"Dude, how long've you been cheating? …Is that why you won the last five hands straight?"

"What can I say Sammy …I'm just good." Dean grinned and held up his hands in mock innocence.

"It's _Sam_. … …Dean, you know, what happened on that hunt …it wasn't your fault, right?" Sam looked sincerely at Dean as the next hand of cards was dealt.

"Sam."

"I'm serious man. You know, we can't save everyone. …I mean, Dad died …Jess …bad things happen. …This life we're living …"

"Yeah, this life we're living …that's what's got you into this mess Sam …I should've … I mean, if you don't get better…"

"Dean, we both get injured. It's just a part of what we do. …God, you can't blame yourself for everything."

"Yeah, well it's my job to watch out for you Sammy. Keep you safe."

"Yeah, I know you do." Sam smiled sincerely at his brother.

"Dude, I'm not hugging."

"Bite me."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Only when Sam's abdomen started to protest the propped position on the bed did Sam reluctantly call an end to the card game and consequently the conversations. Claiming that he was again tired, Sam handed his cards to Dean, before sliding down on the bed, seeking a more comfortable position. Without protest, Dean packed away the cards and made sure Sam took his pills, and had every thing he needed at hand. Sam accepted Dean's ministrations without protest, knowing his brother would be hurt if he pushed him aside.

Sam felt marginally better lying flat on his back with his head resting on a pillow. The pain that he'd developed from the awkward position he'd maintained for the game of cards now receding to just a slight pulsating ache in his abdomen. He watched as Dean moved restlessly around the room, and knew that the enforced confinement in the room was not easy for him. The only times when Dean was reasonably still was when he was sleeping or behind the wheel of the Impala. Even staying stationary during a hunt was a difficult task for Dean, one which had taken many years of practice, and many hard training sessions with their father.

Sam found it difficult to relax as Dean prowled around the room, stopping to stare at Sam, and a few times even rearranging and smoothing the covers on his bed.

When Dean moved towards the head of his bed with another pillow in hand, he decided enough was enough.

"Dean, you intending to fluff my pillows?"

"Nah Sammy, was gonna smother you." Dean self consciously put the pillow back on the other bed and sat down before leaning back to rest on it.

"You know, I'm just gonna sleep. No reason you can't go out for a few hours."

"No …I'll just hang around …maybe watch some TV or something."

"Dean, I'll sleep better if you're not staring at me. It's kinda weird, you checking me out all the time.

"Dude, I'm not checking you out."

"Yeah well …go have a few beers or something. Let me sleep in peace."

"Feel better if I'm here …in case you need anything."

"Dean, I'm not going any where …anyway, its not like you're going far, and I can always phone you."

"Yeah okay." Dean said resignedly, torn between being there for Sam and having a few hours of freedom.

Before leaving, Dean made sure Sam had some water handy beside the bed, the TV remote, and made him swear to take his pain meds before going to sleep. Promising to bring something back for dinner in a couple of hours, Dean left Sam to head down to the local bar, just a block down the street. He didn't want to go far.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam woke up an hour later to be greeted by the silent motel room. Labored breathing echoed loudly through the dimly lit room and it took Sam a moment to realize it was coming from him. He barely had time to lean his head over the side of the bed before the bile in his throat rushed up rapidly to decorate the already stained carpet.

"Dean" he whispered into the silence.

TBC.

**A/N: Press the tab – review – **_**PLEASE! I'll make Sam hurt more, I promise.**_

**_Jadzia - love to discuss your offer to beta - please send me an email._**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** _Thank you everyone for the reviews. I check eagerly for reviews after I post each chapter. _

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**Shared Burdens**

**Chapter 7**

Dean had only been in the bar for a few minutes before he realized it wasn't really where he wanted to be. He ordered a beer, but wasn't able to savor the taste. His entire focus was on Sammy. Instead of feeling more relaxed by leaving the motel room, he was instead overcome by apprehension by not having his brother in his sight. By not knowing if he was okay, if he needed anything, if he needed him.

Determined to give Sam the break he'd asked for from his monotonous company, Dean slowly sipped his beer, making mundane conversation with the bartender. About half an hour later, he threw a few dollars on the bar before heading out the door. Denying his temptation to phone Sam to check on him, he decided instead to pick up some dinner and head straight directly to the motel.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

The distinctive smell of sickness hit him as soon as he opened the door.

"Sammy" he called, dropping the bag of take out on the floor as he rushed to his brother's side.

"Sammy?" Dean sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand protectively on his brother's chest. "What's wrong?"

Sam stared at his brother, needing to take a moment to comprehend that Dean was actually beside him; that he wasn't hallucinating; that he wasn't dreaming. He'd been lying in the bed, trying to get the energy to get his phone off the dresser to call Dean. The small distance had looked like a marathon, one that he knew he couldn't manage. But with relief he acknowledged that Dean was back. His brother was here. He wasn't alone.

Sam looked at the mess on the floor. "Sorry Dean," he whispered, letting his eyes slowly close.

"Sam, open your eyes …Sam …Sam."

"Sorry Dean …sooo tired," he said woozily, struggling to keep awake, to keep focused.

"Come on Sam …we're going to the hospital."

Dean quickly pulled back the bed covers before putting an arm behind Sam to help him into a sitting position. Sam swayed as soon as Dean removed his supporting arm.

"Shit. …Come on Sammy, help me here."

"Sorry Dean." Sam mumbled, picking a focal point to stare at, hoping to stop the room from spinning.

With an arm behind Sam's back and a hand grabbing the shirt on his brother's chest, Dean heaved his brother to his feet. As Sam stumbled, Dean held him tightly, readying them to begin the slow walk to the car.

As soon as he stood upright, Sam felt the room tilt and closed his eyes against the spinning sensation. He breathed heavily, the effort to remain upright sapping his strength.

"You still with me?" Dean asked, bearing a large portion of Sam's weight.

Sam's response was to tilt forward suddenly. Dean grabbed him tightly, trying to steady his movements, but the shift in weight was too great, and Dean was unable to stop the descent.

Instantly recognizing the futility in stopping his falling brother, Dean kept a firm grip, instead slowing his graceless collapse to the floor.

"Sam …Sam …Sammy?

Sam was unresponsive.

After quickly checking that Sam was breathing and laying a finger on his pulse, relief washed over Dean.

"Sammy …come on, open your eyes." Dean pleaded, running a hand over Sam's face.

Sam remained unresponsive.

Shit, Dean thought, panic taking over for a second as he failed to get any response from his brother.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed 9-1-1.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

As he was being loaded into the ambulance, Sam slowly swum back into consciousness.

"Dean?"

"Yeah Sammy, I'm right here." Dean moved a little closer to the side of the gurney, grasping his brother's hand.

"What …?"

"You passed out … gonna take you to the hospital."

"Sir, we need to take your brother now. If you'd like to follow us in your car…?" The ambulance officer spoke kindly as Sam was loaded into the ambulance. Dean reluctantly let go of his brother's hand.

"Dean?" Sam called shakily as the gurney was pushed fully inside the waiting ambulance.

"I'm gonna follow you in the car Sam. I'll be there when you get to the hospital." Dean spoke, as the ambulance doors were securely closed.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dean stayed directly behind the ambulance as it traveled to the hospital. On arrival, he'd quickly parked the Impala before rushing through the doors of the emergency entrance. He'd just been in time to see Sam being wheeled away on a gurney - behind closed glass doors.

"Sir, you can't go back there."

Dean stood in front of the closed glass doors, barred from entering. He pleaded, almost begged the nurse to let him through. His brother was on the other side.

"Someone will come and get you shortly," was the firm but polite response.

Now he'd been pacing restlessly for the past fifteen minutes, not being allowed to follow his brother. Instead, he'd had to fill out the hospital forms. Giving the name Sam had used during his last visit, and inventing some false insurance details, Dean handed the completed forms back to the attending nurse. The nurse barely glanced at the forms before slotting them into the vast filing tray.

Dean waited impatiently for five more minutes until his name was called and he was escorted from the waiting room to another room where Sam lay in a curtained cubical. Dean went straight to Sam's side, laying a hand on his arm. He smiled reassuringly a Sam, stroking his arm, before turning his attention to the doctor.

Dean is it?" the doctor asked, getting a quick nod in response. "I'm Dr Hartman. We spoke on the phone."

"How's Sam?" He quickly asked, unable to hide the worry from his voice.

"Considering Sam's condition, I'd like to run a few tests …and then we'll probably prep him for surgery. I'm a bit concerned about his blood pressure, the vomiting and the fact that Sam passed out …but we won't know anything conclusive until after we've run a scan."

"Surgery?" Dean questioned. It was the only word he heard.

"He may need surgical repair of the torn kidney. At this stage, we want to try and spare the kidney from removal".

"Yeah …okay."

"Regardless of the scan results, Sam will have to stay here under observation for at least a few days, probably a week, maybe longer."

"Yeah, but he's gonna be alright …right?" Dean waited for the affirmative response he desperately needed.

"You know I'm right here …wish you wouldn't talk about me as if I'm not here …" Sam's weak voice murmured suddenly from the bed, frustrated by being excluded from the conversation.

"As I was saying" Dean said, pointedly staring at his brother, "Sam will do whatever you think is best."

"But Dean…"

"Not up for discussion Sammy."

"It's Sam," he said, closing his eyes in resignation.

Doctor Hartman chatted with Dean for a few more moments until he was called away, promising to return after Sam's tests had been completed.

Dean settled quietly in the chair beside Sam's bed to wait, continuing to hold Sam's arm; stroking gently, repetitively. The action soothed Sam and reassured Dean.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dean paced the room restlessly. Sam had been taken away three hours ago for the tests and scans.

Dean's anxiety rose in direct proportion to the period of time Sam was away.

Dean paused mid stride as the door abruptly opened, admitting Sam's doctor.

"Sam? …How's my brother?"

"Dean, take a seat," Doctor Hartman requested, waiting for Dean to settle. "Sam should be brought back in shortly. The scans showed that the tear in his kidney was still bleeding, and it seemed to have increased slightly since his last scan. In fact, his overall condition has deteriorated quite dramatically since I last saw him. I really felt that we couldn't afford to wait and see if Sam's kidney would heal by itself, so surgery to repair the tear and drain the excess fluid seemed to be Sam's best chance. I really want to save that kidney if we can."

"So Sam's going to have surgery?"

"Actually, it's a fairly quick and straightforward procedure, and Sam's just coming out of surgery now. We prepped him straight after I saw the scan – we couldn't gain anything from delaying."

"So, Sam …he's gonna be okay?"

"Well, the surgery went well. The kidney has been repaired. Now, we have to watch out for infection, and monitor kidney function. The kidney may return to normal function, or it may experience acute or chronic failure. Given that only one kidney is affected, there may be no outward symptoms if the kidney fails … because the second healthy kidney functions normally and is adequate for normal health".

"When will we know …you know, if everything is working okay?"

"We'll be monitoring Sam closely for the next few days and running tests on his kidney function. We really just have to wait and see now. …As I said, they should be bringing Sam back in shortly. He'll most likely be a bit groggy from the anesthetic when he wakes up."

"Okay …thanks."

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dean got to his feet as soon as the doctor left, unable to curtail his restlessness. He paused at every sound out in the corridor, hoping it was Sam being brought back to the room. Each disappointment coming one step closer to breaking him.

As he moved restlessly around the room, he found it difficult to curb his thoughts. Surely, he contemplated; Sam should be back by now. But, what if there'd been a complication. What if Sam didn't come out of the anesthetic? What if… Dean tried desperately to stop his thoughts. He needed to be strong. Sam needed him. His anxiety was quickly replaced by guilt as his mind shifted, memories overcoming him. Sam had been sick when they'd been traveling…why didn't he notice …do something sooner? Why didn't he pay closer attention to Sam's symptoms in the motel room? Why didn't he insist Sam come back to the hospital sooner? Why did he leave, no abandon, his brother and go to the bar…?

Dean sank hopelessly down onto the chair, dropping his face into his hands. He felt weighed down with the guilt rushing over him.

He'd been too self-centered to notice his brother's pain.

He'd let Sam down when he needed him most.

He could hardly think. Could hardly breathe.

Tiny shudders ran through his body, barely discernable.

Desperately, Dean tried to control his emotions. He needed to pull himself together. He needed to be strong.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

An hour later, Dean sat beside Sam's bed and watched as his brother's eyes started to flicker, fingers started to twitch, and small moans escaped his mouth.

'Sammy …come on …open you eyes …Sammy…" Dean said the words he'd been repeating regularly since Sam had been brought back to the room. The words were a little more desperate now, brought on by the endless hour he's spent fervently waiting for a response.

Sam lightly squeezed the hand clasping his, a small groan escaping as he drifted slowly back to consciousness.

"Sammy …can you hear me?"

"Deeeean" Sam slurred, eyes opening to mere slits.

Sam's head felt heavy, his mind disorientated. Light crept past his partially opened eyes, and he reluctantly opened them further. Everything was fuzzy, blurred, and as he looked around, the room wavered.

Moving was a mistake. He felt disconnected from his body as he remained still yet everything else seemed to move, shift and spin around him.

"Deeean …sick" he gasped out as he felt the wave of nausea hit him.

Dean held on tight to Sam's hand as he watched him regain consciousness. He recognized the signs of Sam's imminent nausea a moment before Sam said the word. Grabbing the bowl off the table, Dean gently propped his brother's head up and held the bowl under his face, waiting for the inevitable.

Sam was grateful for Dean's support, still feeling too weak to lift his head on his own. As the bile rose in his throat, it was the comforting arm of his brother that helped ease his distress. When it was over, it was his brother who gently eased his head back on the pillow, gave him a sip of water, and brushed the hair from his eyes.

"Thanks Dean" he whispered tiredly, struggling to remain awake. Dean was here; everything would be okay, he thought, as he let the calm wash over before he drifted to sleep.

"Rest …I'll be here when you wake up." Dean could see Sam's obvious struggle to stay awake.

Dean pressed the nurse call button as he remained by his brother's side. He gently stroked his fingers through Sam's hair, relaxing him back to sleep.

A nurse arrived within a few minutes, and Dean reported that Sam had woken and been sick. She checked his vitals, assuring Dean that everything was okay, that the nausea would just have been a result of the anesthetic. She cleaned up the mess, before leaving Dean alone again with his brother.

Dean watched his brother sleep, reassured by the even rise and fall of his chest, the soft steady breaths, the relaxed facial expression.

Unable to help himself, he laid a hand on Sam's chest, cherishing the feel of its movements. His brother was all he had left, and he silently vowed to take better care of him, to protect him, to do whatever it took to keep him safe.

--

**A/N:** Will probably add a final chapter. Yes / No ?

Love reviews. **PLEASE**.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** _Thank you for the reviews and to everyone who's followed this story. This is the much asked for epilogue._

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**Shared Burdens**

**Chapter 8 – Epilogue**

**---**

**Three days later**

Sam carefully eased himself off the firm hospital bed before grabbing his belongings and heading into the small adjacent bathroom. As quickly as he could in the confined space, he dressed himself in the clothes Dean had brought in for him just the day before. He was careful not to knock the gauze covering his small sutured scar, the only evidence of his recent surgery. He splashed some cold water across his face before running his damp hands through his messy hair, trying to bring some order to the tousled mop. Peering at his reflection in the mirror, he had to admit he still looked like crap.

Bundling his discarded hospital garb into a ball and tossing it into the corner, he slowly opened the door, peering through, before returning to sit on his bed. He sighed deeply, pleased that Dean hadn't returned while he'd been in the bathroom.

The doctor had already made his early morning rounds and pronounced that Sam was progressing well and finally allowing the nurse to remove his catheter. After hearing the doctor's prognosis, Dean had thankfully taken the opportunity to leave the room to grab some coffee, affording Sam at least a small measure of privacy. Except for one quick trip back to the motel to get Sam some clothes and toiletries, Dean had only briefly left the room a few times for coffee and snacks since Sam had been admitted.

He planned to be dressed and ready to go when Dean returned. The doctor had recommend that he stay for a few more days monitoring, just to be sure, but Sam was more than ready to leave. He felt much better, in fact, now it was more the sore muscles, tender ribs and healing bruises that were giving him the most pain. Although the scar from the operation was slightly tender, and itchy, he felt it was healing well.

He now sat on the narrow bed, meager possessions by his side, anticipating Dean's return. He vaguely considered going to find him, but didn't want to alarm Dean if he returned and found the room empty. Looking around the bland and sterile room, he could honestly say that he couldn't wait to ditch his current surroundings.

"Sam. What the… what do you think you're doing?" Dean interrupted Sam's daydreaming.

"What does it look like I'm doing Dean?" Sam made to get off the bed.

"Get back into bed …I mean it ….now Sam."

"No. We're leaving. I spoke to the doctor after you left." Sam smiled as he continued. "He said I'm right to go."

"That's not what I heard."

"Dean, I feel fine …anyway, how much longer do you think it's gonna be before someone starts asking questions about those phony insurance details you gave?"

"I don't care about that right now Sam."

"Dean I'm serious, the Doc said I can leave …said there'd be some paperwork for me at the nurses' station on my way out."

"Yeah well, don't move …I'm gonna go check." Dean moved towards the door before shooting a glare back at this brother. "I swear Sam, if you're lying to me…"

When Dean left the room Sam gingerly got off the bed. Making his way over to the door, possessions in hand, he confidently waited for Dean to return.

As he still remained waiting a few minutes later, he fervently hoped Dean would hurry. Although he felt a lot better, his inactivity over the past few days had left him feeling a bit weak and tired, and his disused muscles had started to protest at the sudden activity.

Sam lent against the door frame, watching as nurses moved from room to room, a few patients moved slowly down the corridor, and a couple of visitors came and went. Gratefully, a couple of minutes later he saw Dean striding purposely down the corridor back in his direction.

Dean gave his brother a critical look as he approached. Sam stood pale and motionless in the doorway, resting against the door frame slightly for support. He really didn't think his brother looked in any way fit enough to be discharged, but it was obviously what Sam wanted. The doctor had very reluctantly agreed to Sam's request, and Dean had grudgingly completed the required paperwork for Sam's discharge and collected written notes regarding his post operative care.

"I spoke to the doc Sam. He thinks it'd be better for you to stay, at least until the end of the week. ...You know, there's no rush …"

"Come on Dean. You know I hate hospitals …I'm going stir crazy here." Sam raised his pleading eyes to look at his brother. "I promise to take things easy for a few days."

Dean moved to grasp his brother's arm, offering support.

"Dean," he said, gently shaking off his hand. "God. I'm alright …I can walk." Sam slowly began his trek down the corridor, Dean close by his side.

"Oh, and Sam …you'll be taking it easy for more than just a few days."

"Yeah, whatever." Despite his outward bravo, Sam was actually more than happy to take some time off to rest and recover.

The trek to the Impala was slow, but steady. Dean never moved far from his side, almost as if he was afraid that Sam would fall, and needing to be there to catch him.

Sam realized that he must have given his brother a real scare for him to be acting like he was.

Reaching the car, Dean quickly stepped ahead of him, opening the door and waiting for him to get in.

Sam smiled. "Thanks Dean."

"Stay there Sam, I'll be back in a sec." Dean told him sternly, before closing the car door and hurrying away.

Dean jogged quickly to the drug store, just a couple of minutes away. He wanted to pick up Sam's pain meds before they left so that he didn't have to leave Sam alone in the motel room. He waited impatiently for the medication.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, the pharmacist handed over the small plastic container. He threw a few bills on the counter, mumbling a few insults and choice swear words under his breath. He didn't bother waiting for his change.

Dean sprinted back to the car, worry gnawing at him for having left Sam alone. Alone and vulnerable. Reaching the car, he saw his brother's head resting at an uncomfortable angle, propped in the small space between the door and the back of the seat. Overcome with concern, he wrenched open the driver's side door – to be met with the sound of snoring. Guttural snoring.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief as he got in the car as quietly as he could; surprised he hadn't already woken his brother. Sam didn't wake as Dean started the car, or during the ten minute drive to the motel. He parked at the motel and went and got them a room for the next week. He put their bags and gear in the room before returning to the car to wake Sam.

"Sam …Sam …Sammy …time to wake up." Dean's voice rose as he crouched next to the open car door, one hand on Sam's shoulder, gently shaking him.

"Uh …nuh …tired." Sam mumbled, trying to settle more comfortably in the seat.

"Come on Sam …time to move." Dean shook Sam a little more vigorously.

Sam opened his heavy eyes. The walk from the hospital room to the car had worn him out more than he had expected. He really wanted to sleep, just for a little while longer.

"Dean …where are we?" Sam looked around the unfamiliar surroundings.

"What, didn't think we were going back to that puke room did you? I was lucky to get out of there without paying extra for cleaning." Dean shivered in exaggeration. "And God, that smell …ughh …dude, you puked all over the carpet."

Sam grimaced in memory.

"Nah, thought we'd try a new motel for a few days." Dean said, hauling Sam out of the car and to his feet. Sam didn't shake off Dean's support as he helped him into the motel and onto the bed.

Sam took the couple of pain pills Dean held out to him before lying back against the pillows.

"Thanks Dean."

"Yeah well, make yourself comfortable …that's where you're staying for the next week …minimum."

"Whatever." Sam was really too weary to argue.

"No Sam, I'm serious. Doc said you have to take it real easy. No lifting or strenuous activities for a while, plenty of bed rest. …Looks like we're gonna be having a little vacation."

"Yeah, without the beach and sunshine." Sam replied sleepily, closing his eyes.

Dean settled in the chair at the table to read the post operative notes given to him by the doctor.

"Hey Sam, says here that you shouldn't lift any more than ten pounds at time."

"mmm …'kay Dean."

"Presence of pain should be the guide to limiting your activities." Dean read out a passage from the notes.

"Uhhh ha."

"Call your doctor right away if you see any bright red blood in the urine, fever greater than 100.5 degrees, or belly pain and tenderness." Dean quoted.

"Mmmmm"

"Sam, you listening to me?" Dean stared intently at his brother.

"Yeah Dean, I heard you …can I go to sleep now?"

Dean put down the notes and moved over to his brother's bedside, placing a hand on his forehead. Sam's temperature seemed normal.

Sam swiped at Dean's hand. "Dude …I'm fine."

"Any pain or …"

"Dean …I'd tell you okay. I'm fine …just a little tired." Sam pulled the pillow in closer and closed his eyes.

"Okay, you sleep. …I'll be here when you wake up." Dean smiled, already hearing the deep breathing and soft snores coming from his brother.

Dean sat back down to read the rest of the notes, listening to the sounds of his brother sleeping.

_**The End.**_

_**A/N: Hope you all enjoyed the story – many thanks for reading. **_

_**Please, I'd love a final review. Criticism (constructive) always welcome. **_


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